IDEAS TO LIVE BY from www.theschooloflife.com

Education

September 17, 2011

One thing's for sure, ours wouldn't be like the West London Free School, the new school run by parents and led by the author and Telegraph columnist Toby Young.

Of course, you might object to the idea of setting up a free school altogether, least of all because many of the first free schools have been set up by parents in well-off areas to start with. But if we sidestep those thorny issues for after class and just look at the style of the West London Free School, it's clear it wishes it was a five-hundred-year-old grammar school. You can see it in the pupils' blue blazers, the headteacher's black gown, traditional subjects and compulsory Latin. It even has its own Latin motto "Sapere Aude" (dare to learn). It's all very Harry Potter.

So who cares if parents want to make their school feel so old-fashioned? Well, we do. Without getting all debating society about it, it says a lot about the confidence in our children's future to dream up something that so desperately wishes it was in the past. Imagine if The School of Life had the same rigid ideas of right and wrong subjects and rules. That we wouldn't teach you unless you wore the right blazer and you'd polished your shoes. But when a bunch of well-meaning parents in West London were given a blank slate (and chalk) that's the vision they came up with.

One thing that attracted us to The School of Life in the first place (we were students and fans first, weekend teachers second) was that it didn't feel anything like school or a typical evening class. The style of a school matters and has an impact on us in our later lives. We know this because people who come to our writing class at The School of Life tell us. We've seen it on the faces of some of the more nervous writers at the start too, and in their I-didn't-know-I-could-do-it faces when they realise there's been a brilliant writer inside them all along.

If you think of a writing class most people instantly have flashbacks to lessons about grammar, apostrophes and the dreaded red pen. We don't do any of that. Not that a few rules don't matter, they do. It's just that for most people steadfast grammar rules are wrapped up with fears of getting them wrong. So they worry more about the grammar than about what makes writing a bloody great read.

So if you've been thinking about coming to our Words for Life class but you've been worried about whether you're up to it, or if you've been held back by the autumn (shudder) feeling of going back to school, then this is the writing course for you. We won't get out a red pen once. That's our school motto.

September 14, 2011

In a letter to today’s Guardian an impressive list of philosophers (and, intriguingly, several comedians) endorse the idea that we need more philosophy in our schools. Philosophy, they point out, is useful in developing reasoning and conceptual skills, and has spin-off effects on performance in other subjects. All true. But philosophy, as those signatories well know, is more than a sandpit in which to hone critical skills that have application elsewhere. It might be diplomatic to emphasize transferable techniques picked up from studying it, but we should also remember that philosophy has a distinctive subject matter and a rich literature.

Philosophy is the practice of thinking seriously about some of the deepest questions we can ask ourselves about the nature of reality and how we should live. We all have to reach conclusions about whether God exists, whether killing is always wrong, and about how we treat people who are less fortunate than us – either that, or accept other’s views unthinkingly. In that sense, almost any thinking person is a philosopher. We are fortunate in being able to draw upon more than 2,500 years of thought and debate in reaching our conclusions.

Reading and thinking about the great philosophers of the past can be a valuable experience in itself, and is rarely a visit to a museum of defunct ideas. René Descartes put it well: ‘To read good books is like having a conversation with the most eminent minds of past centuries, and moreover, a studied conversation in which these authors reveal to us only the best of their thoughts.’ (from his Discourse on Method). In this conversation disagreement is often more stimulating than agreement.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could openly endorse the value of engaging with the ideas of Plato, Aristotle, Locke, Hume, Mill, Marx, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and co. rather than have to justify philosophy’s inclusion in the curriculum solely on the grounds that it sharpens the tools of thought. We need something to think about as well as something to think with.

August 31, 2011

Goethe said, amongst many other clever things during his lifetime that “we are shaped and fashioned by what we love”. Like all other statements which reinforce the idea that we are captains of our own destiny, there is an onerous, if not a frightening, edge to this statement: one must take responsibility for one’s own actions. If you are spending hours of every week in a vegetative state in front of the TV or wasting away hours scrolling through celebrity tweets – well, then that waste of time is no-one’s fault but your own, and is certainly not to be laid at the door of a tawdry, celebrity-obsessed culture or the crippling power of modern media to keep you enslaved. As I said, Goethe’s statement is onerous, if only because it robs us of such comfortable scapegoats.

Goethe’s point can be mightily empowering, if embraced in the right way. A prime example of someone latching on to this sentiment is Jay-Z. In his 2010 memoir Decoded, Jay-Z says of his formative years that he and his fellows “were kids without fathers … so we found our fathers on wax and on the streets and in history, and in a way, that was a gift. We got to pick and choose the ancestors who would inspire the world we were going to make for ourselves … Our fathers were gone but we took their old records and used them to build something fresh.”

Thus Goethe’s maxim became for Jay-Z an enormously potent means of overcoming all of sorts of familial and societal narratives which would otherwise keep the nascent rapper down. He forged his own narrative and, in his own words, inspired the world he was to make for himself through a conscious adoption of that which he would love. As a strategy for living well, it hasn’t served him so badly.

August 24, 2011

Week 3 of The Artist's Way, is all about emotions. The chapter starts with Anger. It continues with further discussion about Synchronicity. I found the passage about Anger extremely synchronous, given that prior to reading it, I had just had a blow-out argument, centered around my struggle to make decisions about what I want, what I need, and what I am striving for, both in this process and beyond.

Helpfully, Cameron explains that Anger is useful, and is there to be listened to. That said, she does note that it is "to be acted upon. It is not meant to be acted out." Oops… Nonetheless, I am glad that the emotional turbulence that surrounds me, has some context, and I am relieved that I'm not an anomaly in my confusion.

In my first post, I wrote that one of my motivations for embarking on this process, was to become unselfconsciously creative, and find clarity around what it is in life that makes me fulfilled, makes me feel excited, makes me feel proud of what I do.

It's a big ask to be honest. Those are big questions. In my case, they are also complicated by the fact that as I write this, I'm sitting in Kaffe 1668 in New York, which means that in the three weeks since embarking on this course, I've travelled to five cities; cities which are all inspiring, creative and full of people and opportunities which all contribute to my decision-making process.

However, despite all that, the biggest thing that's holding me back, is without doubt, me. Cameron spends some time talking about Shame, which I think is deeply tied to self-esteem and confidence. Shame is often what prevents people from pursuing creative projects; "What if my work/my idea isn't any good?", "I can't write about that, it's too embarrassing!", "If I'm not honest, this won't have integrity, and I'm too scared to be honest". They are all understandable fears, but fears that keep us wedded to analytical work, and logic-based activities, which are all very safe. And very boring.

Cameron therefore suggests, that you find a couple people who can nurture and protect your early work. Your prototypes, test-cases, scribbles, stories. They are probably not the people you go to for constructive criticism - that’s a whole different thing - but instead they are simply proud of you and your aspirations, and have the creative and emotional intelligence to help you along.

Throughout all this, Cameron advises you to be nice to yourself. To not beat yourself up, and to accept compliments and nice things from people along the way - things like an invitation to dinner, or new socks. She acknowledges that yes, you will be babying yourself, but that thinking positively, and kindly, will go a lot further towards aiding your productivity; creative or otherwise, than tough-love or deprivation.

Next week, Week 4, is about Integrity. And it requires a whole week of reading deprivation!!!!!! A whole week!! Beyond the books, magazines and newspapers I read, I have at least 50 RSS feeds and hundreds of bookmarked articles that I look through all the time... Help!

Lizzie Shupak is a Digital and Brand Strategist. She is also one half of the international social experience, Wok+Wine. She is currently on a journey of creative discovery, which may or may not affect her biography, in the weeks and months ahead.

August 04, 2011

Imagine a child tugging at your arm and asking “what is resilience and how do you get it?” Our reply expresses our ‘story of resilience’, our inner understanding of what resilience is and what it is based on. Because that story powerfully shapes our response to adversity, reviewing it and identifying ways we can develop or strengthen it is one of the keys to becoming more resilient.

When I worked for many years in the addictions treatment service, my clients would often describe how, as children, they’d watched family members use alcohol or drugs as a way of dealing with stress. We learn by watching others, and the story they took in was that resilience is based on chemical props. A big part of my work involved teaching ways of dealing with crisis and adversity that didn’t involve alcohol or drugs.

When our story includes a good understanding of how we can develop resilience, then we carry this into every situation we face. A strong story of resilience is more than the sum of its parts; it can become a source of strength within us. So what I teach is how we get to know this story, have a clear sense of the shape of it, so that whatever we face, we can ask ‘what would a story of resilience look like here, and how can I play my part in it?’

There is good research evidence that teaching resilience skills to adults and children reduces their risk of depression. Strengthening our capacity to cope with adversity also liberates us to pursue more exciting goals, because we’re less likely to be put off by the inevitable bumpiness that journeys of significant change involve. That’s why I love teaching resilience. It is a life skill that brings us more to life.

Dr Chris Johnstone is author of 'Find Your Power' – A Toolkit For Resilience and Positive Change' (2nd ed, Permanent Publications, 2010). He is teaching this week at our Summer School and will be running the Resilience One Day Workshop at The School of Life on Saturday 24 September.

June 08, 2009

Ahead of her secular sermon for The School of Life on Sunday June 28, International design critic Alice Rawsthorn, puts out a call to arms for young designers.

The numbers seem nutty. There are 6.5 billion people on this planet, 90% of who can’t afford basic products and services. Half of them, nearly 3 billion people, don’t have regular access to food, shelter or clean water. Yet whenever we read, or talk, about design, it’s invariably about something that’s intended to be sold to one of the privileged minority – the richest 10%.

The £1 million chaise longue. The super-smart phone. The fast car. The beautifully bound book. The elegant typeface. The cute digital device.Museums, books, magazines, and blogs are stuffed with them. Tens of thousands of designers devote their working lives to producing more.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with that. No one forces billionaires to pay £1 million for chaises longues at gunpoint, and I can’t pretend to feel the least bit guilty about loving beautiful books. But when you look at the bigger picture, doesn’t it seem odd that so much time, energy, talent and resource should be devoted to creating luxuries for relatively few people, when so many more people are in desperate need of designers’ skills and ingenuity?

More and more designers, mostly young ones, are addressing that need by designing everything from emergency housing, water purification devices, cheap forms of transport, educational resources, to new business initiatives for “the other 90%”. They are also tackling the problems of mature economies like our’s by working in collaboration with other disciplines such as anthropology, economics, ethnography, psychology and the social sciences to develop new solutions to acute social problems in areas like crime, education, healthcare, housing, joblessness and ageing.

At the same time, the combination of the economic recession and environmental crisis is prompting designers to re-assess the value of their conventional projects. Many of the values that underpinned design in the 20th century are now redundant. Technology is no longer seen as a panacea. New things aren’t necessarily better than old ones. Big isn’t always best. Why buy something when you can borrow it for a time, before passing it on? Then there is the realisation that most designers’ work will end up rotting – or worse, failing to rot – in landfill sites? And that the design phenomenon of this year, iPhone apps, was dreamt up by amateur designers, not professionals.

If you look back historically, design has always flourished in periods of change. It is an agent of change that can help us to understand the changes in the world around us, and to interpret shifts in science, technology, culture and the economy into things that can help to make our lives more efficient and enjoyable. This is a time of unprecedented change, when those shifts are accelerating as are the extremes of speed and scale that confront us daily, while the social and political systems that once ran our lives are collapsing.

All of this creates extraordinary opportunities for designers, if they embrace a new approach to design – one that is more fluid, responsive, collaborative and inclusive. They will have to win over an increasingly demanding and knowledgeable public. They will have to design intangible formulae, as well as things, and then devolve responsibility for how them. Designers will also have to accept responsibility for ensuring that their work can be disposed of as responsibly as it should have been sourced, manufactured, sold and shipped. And they must focus on the needs of the under-privileged 90%. If they succeed, we will have a new definition of “good design” – one that has less to do with chairs, and more with the aspects of design that really matter.

To book tickets for Alice Rawsthorn's sermon on June 28th, click here.

May 14, 2009

The Brazilian theatre director, educator and politician Augusto Boal died earlier this month. He was a huge inspiration to me and his influence can be felt in many of our courses here at The School of Life.

I had the fortune to be part of a workshop around The Art of Legislation Boal led at the GLA in London in 1998. Later I learned about his ideas from Adrian Jackson, who translated Boal’s work into English and adopts his unique brand of playful agitation though his own work as artistic director of Cardboard Citizens. Earlier this year, I made a personal resolution to try and attend another of Boal’s workshops wherever in the world that might take me, as I yearned for more of the confidence to make useful trouble he inspired. Sadly that opportunity has now passed.

Boal was the founder of Theatre of the Oppressed, a form of everyday theatre used in radical education and increasingly in drama therapy. The name is a variation on Pedagogy of the Oppressed, the now infamous 1968 education manifesto by philosopher Paolo Friere.Friere is without doubt one of the great visionaries of revolutionary social education, but his books are as earnest as they are urgent. Boal, by contrast, made the very serious project of tacking social injustice seem full of humour, joy and hope. Games were in his blood and at the heart of his methodology.

Boal believed everyone could make theatre, and that it was a unique way for each of us to identify strategies for personal and social change. In his Invisible Theatre actors would, seeminly spontaneously, put on a prepared scene in a public place - a restaurant or crowded square - that would quickly engage the surrounding public. In Forum Theatre, a play about a social problem turned out to be the beginning of a negotiation; audience members were encouraged to suggest different modes of resolution for the play and even to climb onstage to help enact them. It all makes Brecht look tame.

The impact Boal made on the everyday lives of many previously disenfranchised Brazilians did not endear him to the military regime of the 1960s and 1970s, and his life was an eventful one involving imprisonment and exile. But after the fall of Brazil’s dictatorship, Boal returned to Rio de Janeiro and used his innovative theatrical approach to engage overlooked communities as a city councillor. He started over a dozen theatere companies and was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2008.

September 10, 2008

At The School of Life we're committed to exploring how culture can help us think through everyday concerns. Engaging with the history of ideas may not offer the quickest form of fix, but it offers a means of asking important and enduring questions about the art of living. While debate rages about the merits or otherwise of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to help us live happier lives - see Darian Leader’s ambivalent article in yesterday’s Guardian - we agree with Hermione Eyre, who writing in the Independent last week, argued that the real reason to read Seneca rather than M Scott Peck isn’t intellectual snobbery but “just the fact that time is a great filter – the best there is for charlatans and cod-philosophical spam.” Read her full article here.

Meanwhile in the Times Higher Education Supplement, Matthew Reisz commended those brave academics willing to present their scholarly research in a more accessible form. His article I Can Help You Change Your Life explored the options open to academics who actually want to engage readers - and perhaps even "change lives”. The problem, as he acccurately explained it, is that “the main qualities needed by writers of self-help books - empathy, worldliness, an ability to cut to the chase - are neither particularly associated with academics nor encouraged by the structures of prestige and career development in universities. And then there are the ways that authors establish their authority. Scholars underwrite their views on macroeconomic policy or Chinese history by referring to their awards, prominent positions within faculties or PhDs from elite institutions. Self-help gurus may also mention their professorships in psychology but, along with the gravitas, they also need to get across that they understand people's everyday problems.”

Reisz picks out Laurie Maguire, Shakespeare specialist at the University of Oxford, whose book Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way; Or, All I Really Need to Know I Learned from Shakespeare is discussed on our Play course at The School of Life. When she went though a personal crisis in 1999, Maguire read her way through "the entire self-help section of the local bookstore and quickly realised that I had read it all before: in Shakespeare." The 16th century "saw the beginning of self-help literature" in the work of writers such as Machiavelli and Castiglione. As well as being a cultural icon, she suggests, Shakespeare too was "a self-help guru" and "life coach".

On the same shelf as Maguire’s book in our shop, you’ll find our own faculty member Alain de Botton’s How Proust Can Change Your Life and Ilana Simons’ A Life Of One’s Own: A Guide to Better Living Through the Work and Wisdom of Virginia Woolf. As Simons explains: “You can probably name a few novelists or artists whom you call smart confidantes or friends. You draw on their writing for guidance at difficult crossroads--for sympathy or advice. After all, literature isn't only valuable because it's entertainment, but because it delivers memorable insight about life outside the book. We know more about love because of Shakespeare, about jealousy because of Tolstoy, about self-esteem because of Charlotte Bronte. Literature moves us for what it says about events outside of their plots.”

August 12, 2008

As hundreds of thousands of students get excited about heading to the ivory towers, the purpose of a university education has never been more contested. To most, it’s now little more than advanced vocational training, preparing a new generation of Britons to serve their economic utility to society. We've just come across Mujadad Zaman's excellent article about what you you should read if you want to get the process of real education started. It was published a couple of years back in q-news, but it's a pretty timeless list of things worth filling your head with and we stock nearly all of them in The School of Life's shop.